eral times.

"This is indeed written in very ambiguous language, and calculated
to ruin Trenck should it reach the hands of the king," said Baron
Weingarten with a cruel smile.

Zetto returned this smile. "I wrote the document, and you will naturally
understand that I measured the words very closely."

"Who copied the letter?" asked Weingarten. "Doubtlessly Baron Trenck was
not magnanimous enough to do that."

"Baron Waltz is a great adept in imitating handwriting, and he happily
possessed original letters of Trenck's," said Zetto, smilingly.

"You will find it most natural that I should try to win my bet," said
Baron Waltz. "If Trenck is arrested before he goes to Konigsberg, I
have won my bet, and will receive the hundred louis d'ors from the
commissioners."

All three laughed.

"These commissioners will soon have to pay you ten thousand guilders,"
whispered Zetto. "Here is a bond. On the day that Trenck is a prisoner
of the king of Prussia, this bond is due, and you will then find that
the commissioners are not backward in paying." Zetto laid the document
upon the table. "You will now have the kindness to receive our
testimony, and, if you desire it, we will add our accusations, or you
can mention that this can be done."

Weingarten did not answer; a repentant fear tormented his heart, and for
a moment it appeared as if his good and evil genius were struggling for
his soul.

"This involves probably the life of a man," he said, softly; "it is a
terrible accusation that I must pronounce: if not condemned to
death, the king will imprison him for many long years, and I shall be
responsible for this injustice."

Councillor Zetto's attentive ear heard every word; he stood near him
like the evil one, and his piercing eyes rested upon the agitated
countenance of Weingarten and read his thoughts.

"Have you not lived the life of a prisoner for many years?" asked Zetto,
in a low, unnatural voice; "have you not always been a slave of poverty?
Will you now, from weak pity, lose the opportunity of freeing yourself
from this bondage? Ten thousand guilders is no fortune, but it may be
the beginning of one--it may be the thread of Ariadne to lead you from
the labyrinth of poverty to freedom and light; and who will thank you if
you do not seize this thread--who recompense you for your generosity and
magnanimity? If you tell it to the wise and cunning, they will laugh at
you, and if the foolish hear it, they will not und